


Aftermath

by Trismegistus (Lebateleur)



Category: The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 15:58:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8108533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lebateleur/pseuds/Trismegistus
Summary: Deret Beshelar, Csevet Aisava, and what came after Winternight.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aansero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aansero/gifts).



As he left the Verven'theileian, Deret Beshelar was overtaken by successive waves of joy and shame, each coming so quickly in the wake of the other he could not have said what he felt. Treason against the emperor! In his very court! And the traitor dead in the attempt. He felt another fierce burst of pride at the memory of Cala, fingers twisting through the impossible shapes of the revethmaz before the assailant could take two steps toward the throne. 

Then the wave crested and he plunged down into the trough of humiliation. He should have argued more strongly for completing his shift. How could His Serenity entrust his life to Beshelar's care if he begged off his duty merely because he was injured? And oh gods, he had thrown himself onto the emperor's lap. 

He parted ways with Cala outside the grille to the Alcethmeret, Cala taking the long hallway that led eventually to Usharsu's Ladder while he turned the opposite way toward the barracks. He had promised Cala he would seek out the physician there, having refused the attentions of Doctor Ushenar, whom he strongly felt should not have a thought to spare for any save the emperor. But Beshelar decided against it as he drew near the clinic. Truly, the wound was not as dreadful as everyone made it out to be, and (a small part of him admitted) it was his deserving. Had he not failed to properly execute his duty, the traitorous Tethimar would have had no time to draw his blade at all.

And truly, he was tired. Far better for him to sleep now, so that he would be rested when the time came to relieve His Serenity's seconds. His quarters were dark when he unlocked the door and stepped inside. He undressed without bothering to stoke the coals in the grate and folded his uniform as best he could with fumbling fingers. _It does not even hurt overmuch,_ he thought as he fell heavily onto the mattress. 

A thick layer of ash had grown over the coals when the knock at his door roused him from confusing dreams of airships and goblins dancing. Csevet stood shivering at the door, eyes darting up and down the street lest someone see him there. But the hour was late and the capital on edge after the latest attempt on the emperor's life, and no one else was about.

Beshelar stood aside to let him in and stumbled against the doorjamb. Why was he dizzy? Perhaps he should have taken a glass of water before lying down. There was a flare and a hiss as Csevet struck a match and lit the lamps, and then, “Dear gods, hast thou not even had it looked at?”

He blinked at Csevet, not following. And then, “Oh, this?” He raised his arm and winced at the sudden burst of pain. 

“What else?” said Csevet, ears flicking in irritation. “Why hast thou not had it tended to? I've been hours at the Alcethmeret; there was time.”

Beshelar grimaced at this new reminder that he should have remained on duty, as others had. “We can hardly go _now_ ,” he said, a little more waspishly than he intended. “It is only a long scratch; it does not warrant rousing anyone in the middle of the night to see to it.”

“'Tis more than that, and likely to grow worse the longer thou dost not have it treated. Here,” he directed, businesslike as ever. “Sit beside the lamp where the light is good, and I will tend to it myself.”

He gave Beshelar a quick flash of a smile as he knelt before him and probed the wound with gentle fingers. “It has not been all that long since I was a courier, and any courier worth the name knows how to apply a field dressing as well as any soldier.”

“We—” he paused with a pained expression. “That is, I do not mean to treat thee as a servant, merely because...” Because in the Guard I gave orders and they were obeyed. Because I am nohecharis and you are a secretary, and were a courier before that. Because I have been waited on by servants since childhood. Because I believe society is best served when all know their place and do not seek to overstep it. 

“Because you are too much the fool to look after yourself? Might I remind you,” Csevet continued crisply, “that you foiled an assassination attempt tonight, and might have need to do so again in a matter of hours?”

Beshelar pursed his lips and wondered, not for the first time, whether he presumed too much in accepting Csevet's affections. They each owed their station at court to their reputation for doing what was proper; he did not care to think what would happen to them if they were found out. 

“Wast thou frightened?”

“Yes, and for his Serenity's safety too.” Csevet tucked the ends of the bandage in with steady fingers and looked up at Beshelar. “It's late, and we will both have to rise before very long. Come to bed.”

**Author's Note:**

> Your prompt for this pairing was lovely; so many good ideas for these two. I hope I touched on some of them here. :)


End file.
